The Ranger Beyond The Wall
by Jkelli13
Summary: Betrayed and left for dead, no one knows his name, they only know his name as Coldhands...he only has his memories to drive him forward as he tries to make amends for his past and find the one who betrayed him...


The snow began to thicken as it fell, blurring his vision and reducing his visibility to near nothing. Still even with visibility so affected he could still make out their shapes, as well as their eyes. The cold blue eyes, that glowed with the light of the undead. The children and their giant had disapparead into the cave. The giant had not been easy. As the wights closed in around him, he seemed to gain some unknown strength, probably the boy he thought, after all that had been why he had been sent for the boy. There were not many that could survive this far north by themselves. It had taken a great heave of strength to push the giant through the barrier that protected the cave. The cave was warded against wight and Others, so he could not pass himself. Turning, he had seen the wights still advancing. He knew not what they were drawn to however, everything living was in the cave which they could not pass through. Could it be him, he wondered, still he would not wait to find out. As the wights circled, he slowly walked away towards the forest, he could not die, he was already dead. There was no point in engaging them either, he needed fire for their corpses and with the current conditions, he could not light one either. Still something needed to be done about them. The forest was teeming these days was teeming with wights it seemed. Not to mention a few hundred more from the weeks earlier. He had seen the disaster from afar. From atop one of the mountains above the fist of the first men, he had watched as the wights closed in around the stricken men of the nights watch. He had watched them use arrows and fire arrows to almost no avail, he had seen re-animated bears and other creatures storm the defences and dragging off rangers to their doom. Only a handful had escaped that slaughter.

He had gone down a day later to the scene only to find none of the bodies had stayed where they had fell. Re-animated again no doubt.

Since his latest ranging had started, he had travelled around the frostfangs and the Haunted Forest in search of the wildlings. He had found abandoned Villages, some with fires still burning, some abandoned, some with blood stains and signs of struggle. Still he rarely found any corpses. And when he did,he found them wandering when they should not have been. Some were fresh and seemed to have died of natural causes, others were severely rotted and had limbs and skin missing.

As he continued away from the cave towards the forest, the wights still pursued him. As he reached the thicker boughs of the forest, a cacophony of noise greeted him. His murder had returned and had waited in the trees, now seeing he was being pursued, they swept down to attack the wights. The cries of the crows as they attacked would have previously caused him to cover his ears. Not so much these days. These days he felt nothing, only regret. Regret at what had become of the world, himself even his brothers in the nights watch.

As the ravens, distracted the wights, he drew his whetstone and sword, along with a piece of cloth from his cloak. He had done this so many times, his cloak was now dishevelled, torn and frayed. It was a good thing he was dead as it wouldn't offer much protection from the cold. Finding a dry piece of wood, he wrapped the cloth around the end of the stick, and holding his sword above, he struck the flint against it repeatedly, until the sparks ignited the cloth. Turning now he held his sword in his right hand and the torch in his left. As he approached, his crows retreated, knowing his intentions. The first wight charged at him, with what would have been a scream, had he any throat, instead there was a mangled, bloody hole and the sound that came out was distorted as a result. Swinging its arm at him, he raised his sword, severing the hand, before bringing his back down and through the creatures legs, taking out the lower half of the legs, before he plunged the torch into it, before standing back as it burst into flame. He dispatched the rest in a similar manner. The downside though was even without their legs, they still tried to claw at him with stumps and what remained of their jaws. The last one had tried clawing at his legs, before he had brought his sword down into its head and shoved his torch through its mouth, igniting it. Looking around he counted five of them had been slain. Their eyes no longer burned bright blue, a good sign he thought. A bad sign he thought, was that all had been members of the nights watch, a bad omen he thought for the realm, if the watch failed, there would be very few things to stop the walkers, except the wall itself of course, still even that was at risk of not containing them. His current mission done, he turned for home, it would be longer now that his elk had succumbed to the cold, still to him time did not matter anymore.

The cave was damp and cold, as was much of this part of the world. It was his home, well what could be considered a home, he had no need of sleep, or to eat, so it merely provided him a place to collect his thoughts, away from the increasing troubles, that being north of the wall provided him.

As he sat down, he thought about the wights he had killed that morning. Men of the Nights Watch, they had died at the fist with hundreds more. Once again he felt regret. Many of the people he had killed had been members of the Nights Watch recently. These ones had no choice unlike some of the others. His mind went back to a few days prior, when he had followed the small group that broken through the horde of wights, only for many to die needlessly. He had been in the trees when he had seen a group of them, betray their brothers. Still that was what happened when you had to employ murderers and rapists to fill your ranks. Still betraying your brothers, after taking the vow was a sin in his eyes, however there were some who he still hoped for, the fat one and his lover who had brought him Bran Stark, while he seemed cowardly, he had a good heart, more than any of the deserters he had killed had had.

Still was he any better? He himself had once taken the vow, and he had also slain some of his brothers, was he now kinslayer? Or did his death mean he was no longer a man of the Nights Watch. He often wondered about his condition. The wights could retain memory of past lives, yet none of them seemed to retain more than that. He however could speak, he moved more like a man alive than dead, yet still he did not breathe or eat or sleep. He often wondered if his current state, was some form of penance, for his crimes. Would the old gods demand penance? After all he had done had been for love. He had been to the weirwood to ask that, yet he had no response, that was until he was found there by the greenseer.

He had oftened visited the Godswood to try to pray to them, yet they had not responded. Nevertheless he often visited there anyway, it provided him a good sight of the wall, a reminder of what he once had been, as well as how far he had fallen. That day he had been sat deep in thought, about her again, after all he had done for her, she had abandoned him, when he had heard the commotion. Upon rising he had seen a man in black running for his life, or what remained of it, being pursued by a group of wildlings. Taking this as a sign he had followed them until, the man ran out of breath and stumbled in the snow at the edge of the forest. The wildlings did not notice him until it was too late, creeping on them, he took his sword and drove it through the back of the nearest wildling. Alerted, the others turned to face them, he had faced wildlings before and knew of their hatred for 'crows' as they called them. The biggest one charged him, his axe held aloft, and swung it at him, taking a backwards step, the axe missed him by inches, yet it was enough, the man had overswung and with his stomach now exposed, he brought his sword up and into his stomach, registering the surprise on the man's face. Turning he heard the snap of a bow and saw something enter his shoulder, he felt no pain and it did not stop as he walked towards the wildiling, she was a girl this one, as he strode towards her she loosed another arrow at him, this one hitting him in the chest. As he got closer he could see the fear in her eyes, as she struggled to nock a third, reaching her he grabbed the bow from her stands and snapped it, before stabbing her too. The remaining wildlings fled towards the forest before he had a chance to engage them. Turning his attention to the ranger, he saw a pale skinned, and white haired man. The man was dressed in good armour however he had no weapons and one of his eyes was missing, though it was not a recent wound. He was breathing hard when he sat up and registered his saviour. 'Thank you my friend…. I had not known any of us were out here besides my party…. What is your name?' Before the wight had any chance to reply, a shout alerted them both to the presence of approaching horseman, which he used to flee back into the forest, better they not know who I am he had thought… he wasn't exactly popular, still maybe they would know there was a ranger beyond the wall doing some good, even it was for his own ends…. He would find her, and he would exact his revenge he thought.


End file.
